


Flies in the Kitchen

by yourfearlessleader



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, M/M, Voyeurism, darker imagery, death and decay imagery, klaus is a lil sad a lil fucked up, trigger warning just in case
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-23 02:44:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18540691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yourfearlessleader/pseuds/yourfearlessleader
Summary: Klaus is sixteen and love is a rot.





	Flies in the Kitchen

**Author's Note:**

> was feelin some typa way so here are the boys, kinda sad, kinda messed up, kinda sweet at the end, always feat. smut cause I can't write anything without it
> 
> also heed the warning if you're squicked by mentions of death and decay imagery~

 

-

 

Klaus is sixteen and love is a rot.

 

Love is his hips grating into the counter, bruises bitten into his skin. Love is harsh grunts and filthy whispers. Love is greedy fingers and the uncomfortable squirming heat of another body against his. He feels it festering inside him, love eating its way through like a parasite, covering him like a mold.

 

Love is catching sight of his brother’s reflection in the mirrored steel of the kettle, the way he stands stock still in the doorway, watching open-mouthed as Klaus gets fucked by a man twice their age, feeling mortified at being caught like this and wishing that it was his brother fucking him instead.

 

Love is a lump in his throat, something sickly from a fairytale - the piece of apple that Snow White choked on, and Diego’s blushing face is red as blood, Klaus’ bare skin white as snow, and the love that rots inside him is black as ebony.

 

Klaus is sixteen and he is in love with his brother.

 

Diego doesn’t leave though, defying all odds. Klaus’ eyes stay fixed on the warped image of him in the reflection, and the guy with his hand in Klaus’ hair is too focused on getting off to notice someone watching. His skin prickles, shrinking tight at the illicit feeling, thrilling at Diego seeing him like this, knowing how wrong it is. The guy is fucking him well, filling him nicely, but it’s nothing compared to the weight of Diego’s stare. Klaus moans brokenly behind the hand keeping him quiet, shuddering as he burns up like the heat death of a star. He _wants_ Diego, the yearning, hungry ache of it sour and sticking like an oil spill. Love is a bitter and desperate swell in his chest, the taste of bile before you’re sick. Love is someone seeing you rot and not doing a single thing about it.

 

It’s a time-lapse of decaying fruit in a bowl, a fox carcass in the forest, the bloom and death of a rose, the icing and thawing of the earth. Love is awful in the naturally inevitable way it creeps through everything, and Klaus hates it. Klaus hates himself, hates the rot inside, hates that he wants to infect Diego with it too because he’s selfish and he doesn’t want to be alone. He shouldn’t want Diego the way he does, and it doesn’t help that Diego is watching it happen, his own personal time-lapse as love slowly eats him away, rotting inside-out, and Klaus shudders on it. Degradation can be a very powerful aphrodisiac and he clenches around the intrusion inside him, whines against the palm across his mouth, his eyes and his cock both leaking as the feeling tears him apart. He shouldn’t want Diego but he _does_.

 

Love is a rot, love is a force of destruction and Klaus wants to be destroyed so badly. The guy fucks into him punishingly, slamming Klaus’ bony hips into the harsh edge of the kitchen counter and Klaus pushes back to meet him. He comes into Klaus with a loud, self-satisfied grunt, a sweating, slimy hand stroking over Klaus’ face in a praising, proprietary way. Klaus shivers, hating it, leaning into it at the same time. The guy pulls out, murmuring promises that Klaus isn’t really listening to, and Klaus realises with a jolt that Diego has gone.

 

Klaus kisses the man goodbye as he tucks a little baggy into Klaus’ shirt pocket, their transaction done, the wet sounds of it loud and hollow in the empty room. This time doesn’t feel like it usually does, Klaus doesn’t have the kernel of twisted pride at having pleasured someone and earned his prize, Diego’s presence haunting him worse than any of the ghosts.

 

The man leaves Klaus half-naked and dripping in the kitchen, still open, still strangely hard, and Klaus bites down the sob threatening to tear out of him. He turns back to lean over the counter again, raising a foot onto a lower drawer handle so he can reach to get his fingers inside. Klaus works himself desperately, the bleeding mess of arousal and sadness overwhelming, making him rougher than he usually is. He screws three long fingers in, feeling the slick mess the guy left there, fucking down sharply on his prostate and trying to force his orgasm out.

 

It’s good but he cries out in frustration, the sinking lead in his stomach evading his release. Klaus tries not to think about Diego, about how much he wants him there instead, touching him in the way a brother shouldn’t. He can’t not though, the phantom heat of Diego watching coils up inside, warring with the fact that while Diego saw him, he didn’t do anything about it. He knows Diego will never want him back, that Klaus is as useless and depraved as everyone says he is. And it should kill his erection, shouldn’t make him moan harder and work his fingers faster, tears spilling down his cheeks as his spine tingles. Klaus makes a horribly needy sound, loud even in his own ears, and then he hears the creak of a floorboard outside.

 

He freezes, blood running cold. ‘Klaus?’

 

It’s Diego. Klaus’ eyes squeeze shut, heart shooting like a rocket up his chest, his dick pulsing precome onto the kitchen counter where his hips jerk minutely. Diego came back for him, maybe to check on him after what happened, and all he’s seeing is Klaus getting himself off from it. Shame washes over like an ice bath. He moans. He’s so hard. Diego came back for him.

 

‘ _Diego, please_.’

 

There’s a sickening moment of silence, Klaus teetering on the edge of breaking, terrified that he’s lost his brother forever, pushing him away by exposing his rotten core for real, the true extent of how deeply fucked up he is. Klaus thinks that he knows what love is but Diego comes closer, touches a tentative hand to the small of Klaus’ back, and rips everything apart.

 

Klaus is sixteen and love is new.

 

Love is a careful hand on his hip, gentle kisses to the bruises on his skin. Love is asking _is this okay?_ and soft, reverent gasps. Love is strong, capable fingers and the comfortable familiarity of his brother’s body against his. He feels it unfurl inside him, love showing its true face on coltish legs, spreading through him warm and sweet.

 

Diego’s hands shake as they touch Klaus, so softly like he’s a fragile china teacup, afraid of shattering him. He touches like he still isn’t sure it’s allowed and Klaus trembles. His hand drifts down to where Klaus’ fingers are still buried and he hears Diego’s quiet gasp behind him. Klaus can’t bear to turn, just waits breathlessly as Diego takes his hand out, feeling him looking at the wet mess on Klaus’ fingers, at his open, twitching hole.

 

‘K-Klaus,’ Diego breathes, and Klaus can feel the heat radiating from him like a furnace. He knows Diego must be blushing something fierce, but he’s not shying away and Klaus melts, head to toe, with sheer and utter relief. His arousal is dizzying, Diego is so close to him, and Klaus cannot quite believe that this is happening.

 

Love is the extraction of poison from his veins, the exhumation of his body, the maggots finally hatching out of his skin in the wake of Diego’s caress. There are flies in the kitchen but Klaus feels it as freedom, love now promising to help heal once festering wounds. Klaus is as light as a feather in his brother’s arms and love is turning out to be every cliche he’s ever heard but never really understood. It seems like a lot but Diego slips his fingers into Klaus instead, filling him up suddenly and perfectly, and Klaus knows that he’s not alone in it.

 

Love is a rot, but this time it’s sweet like a toothache and Diego fucks Klaus tentatively on two fingers. He says, ‘I’ve never done this before,’ and that shouldn’t shoot a spark through Klaus like it does. He squeezes around Diego, a shuddering, high-pitch moan rising out of his throat, and Diego seems to take that as incentive to work him harder. He doesn’t hold back so Klaus doesn’t stop him, even though he really should. This is technically Diego’s first time and they haven’t even kissed yet, but Diego presses his body closer, noses against Klaus’ neck, scenting him, fingers slicked with another man’s come rubbing into Klaus’ prostate with such determined confidence that Klaus’ head spins in surprise.

 

‘ _Fuck_ , Diego.’

 

‘Is this okay?’ he asks quietly, and Klaus rocks down onto him in answer, arching his back out because Diego is so unbearably lovely and apparently attentive sweetness does it for him as much as a quick and dirty fuck. Maybe it’s just Diego that does it for him, maybe it's love.

 

‘Yeah, yeah,’ he babbles. ‘It’s so good, feels so good, Diego, gonna make me come.’

 

Diego freezes up for a moment as words continue to spill from Klaus’ mouth, encouraging nonsensically as Diego fucks his fingers faster, unmeaningly stretching Klaus out as he adjusts his angle. Klaus cries out loudly, voice breaking, and he notices that Diego is moving behind him, shaking, his other hand bumping against the back of his thigh. He realises that Diego is jerking off, his quiet grunts and harsh puffs of breath tickling the curling hair on Klaus’ neck.

 

‘ _God_ , that’s hot,’ Klaus whines, his core molten lava, frantically chasing his release. He’s been on the precipice for what seems like an eternity and when Diego comes with a sudden wet splatter onto the bare skin of his ass, Klaus comes too. Diego presses his sweating forehead into Klaus’ shoulder as he paints him, marking him up, getting some of it on his fingers and working it inside, and Klaus’ body bows taught, a long, trembling line, and he shoots spectacularly over the kitchen counter, untouched dick pulsing with thick, heavy jerks.

 

‘Oh, _oh_.’

 

‘ _Klaus_.’

 

Klaus continues to shove down on Diego’s fingers through the aftershocks. ‘ _Yeah, that’s it_.’ He tosses his head back, exposing his neck, and Diego leans in, drawn by some unexplainable urge, and sucks a new bruise right over the old one. The aching pain of it and the sudden sense of being claimed, of being loved and belonging finally, fills Klaus up until for a moment there’s no room for fear, no void of sadness or rotting hatred.

 

Love is a mirror, reflected back in Diego as Klaus turns in his arms and brings him into their first kiss. It makes Klaus smile at how backward they did this but Diego’s kissing him back like a man drowning, pouring out everything he has even in his clumsy, unpracticed way, and, considering how messed up the whole situation was in the first place, it’s still somehow perfect.

 

Klaus is sixteen and he is in love with his brother, and apparently his brother is in love with him too.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> !happy ending! 
> 
> lemme know what you thought, I love you guys' comments!  
> idk how to engage with the fandom otherwise lol, where do y'all hang out nowadays??


End file.
